A DEPARTURE.
When the three wanderers arrive, at Erlach Court a little after
midnight, they find the rest in the dining-room, still sitting around
the remains of a very much over-cooked dinner. Stasy, in a pink
peignoir, hails Rohritz upon his entrance with, "I have won my
bet,--six pair of Jouvin's gloves from Katrine. I wagered you would be
late--ha! ha!"
"A fact easy to foresee, in view of the condition of the horses and the
roads," Rohritz rejoins, frowning.
The affair, so far as it concerns Stella, who approaches her mother
with fear and trembling, turns out fairly well. As the Baroness's
natural feeling of maternal anxiety for her daughter's safety has only
been temporarily disturbed by Stasy's insinuations, she forgets to
scold Stella, in her joy at seeing her safe and sound. That she may not
give way to an outburst of anger upon further consideration, and that
an end may be put to Stasy's jests, the captain instantly plunges into
a detailed account of all the mishaps that have befallen Stella and her
escort.
Katrine meanwhile searches for a telegram that has arrived for Rohritz,
finally discovering it under an old-fashioned decanter on the
sideboard.
"What is the matter?" she asks, kindly, seeing him change colour upon
reading it.
"Moritz, an apoplectic stroke, come immediately.
Ernestine."
he reads aloud. "'Tis from my eldest sister. Poor Tina!" he murmurs. "I
must leave to-morrow by the seven-o'clock train from Gradenik. Can you
let me have a pair of horses, Les?"
The captain sends instantly to have everything in readiness.
Shortly afterwards Rohritz takes leave of the ladies; he does not, of
course, venture to expect that after the fatigues of the day they will
rise before six in the morning for his sake. Stella's hand he retains a
few seconds longer than he ought, and he notices that it trembles in
his own.
So summary is his mode of preparation that his belongings are all
packed in little more than half an hour, and he then disposes himself
to spend the rest of the night in refreshing slumber. But sleep is
denied him: a strange unrest possesses him. Happiness knocks at the
door of his heart and entreats, 'Ah, let me in, let me in!' But Reason
stands sentinel there and refuses to admit her.
He tossed to and fro for hours, unable to compose himself. Towards
morning he had a strange dream. He seemed to be walking in a lovely
summer night: the moon shone bright through the branches of an old
linden, and lay in arabesque patterns of light on the dark ground
beneath. Suddenly he perceived a small dark object lying at his feet,
and when he stooped to see what it was he found it was a little bird
that had fallen out of the nest and now looked up at him sadly and
helplessly from large dark eyes. He picked it up and warmed it against
his breast. It nestled delightedly into his hand. He pressed his lips
to the warm little head; an electric thrill shot through his veins.
"Stella, my poor, dear, foolish child!" he murmured.
Rat-tat-tat--rat-tat-tat! He started and awoke. The servant was
knocking at his door to arouse him. "The Herr Baron's hot
shaving-water."
When, half an hour later, he appears, dressed with his usual fastidious
care, in the dining-room, he finds both the master and the mistress of
the house already there to do the honours of what he calls, with
courteous exaggeration, 'the last meal of the condemned.' Shortly
afterwards Stasy appears. The general, through a servant, makes a
back-ache a plea for not rising at so early an hour.
The carriage is announced; Rohritz kisses Katrine's hand and thanks her
for some delightful weeks. She and the captain accompany him to the
carriage, while Stasy contents herself with kissing her hand to him
from the terrace. At the last moment Rohritz discovers that he has no
matches, and a servant is sent into the house to get him some.
"It is settled between us, now," Katrine begins, "that whenever you are
fairly tired out with mankind in general----"
"I shall come to Erlach Court to learn to prize it in particular; most
certainly, madame," Rohritz replies, his glance roving restlessly among
the upper windows of the castle. "_Au revoir_ at Christmas!"
The morning is cool; the cloudless skies are pale blue, the turf silver
gray with dew; the carriage makes deep ruts in the moist gravel of the
sweep; the blossoms have fallen from the linden and are lying by
thousands shrivelled and faded at its feet, while the rustle of the
dripping dew among its mighty branches can be distinctly heard.
The servant brings the matches. Rohritz still lingers.
"Do not forget, madame, to bid the Baroness Meineck----" he begins,
when the sound of a limping foot-fall strikes his ear. He turns
hastily: it is Stella,--Stella in a white morning gown, her hair
loosely twisted up, very pale, very charming, her eyes gazing large and
grave from out her mobile countenance.
"Have you, too, made your appearance at last, you lazy little person?
'Tis very good of you, highly praiseworthy," the captain says, with a
laugh to annul the effect of Stella's innocent eagerness.
A burst of laughter comes from the terrace.
"I hope you are duly gratified, Baron," a discordant voice calls out.
"When our little girl gets up at six o'clock it must be for a very
grand occasion!"
Blushing painfully, Stella with difficulty restrains her tears; she
says not a word, but stands there absolutely paralyzed with
embarrassment.
"I thank you from my heart for your kindness," Rohritz says, hastily
approaching her. "I should have regretted infinitely not seeing you to
say good-bye."
"You had a great deal of trouble with me yesterday, and were very
patient," she manages to stammer. "Except Uncle Jack, no one has been
so kind to me as you, since papa died, and I wanted to thank you for
it."
He takes her soft, warm little hand in his and carries it to his lips.
"God guard you!" he murmurs.
"Hurry, or you will be too late!" the captain calls to him. He is going
to accompany him to the station, and he fairly drags him away to the
carriage.
The driver cracks his whip, the horses start off, Rohritz waves his hat
for a last farewell, and the carriage vanishes behind the iron gates of
the park.
"Poor Stella! poor Stella!" Stasy screams from the terrace, fairly
convulsed with laughter. "Delightful fellow, Rohritz: he knows what
he's about!"
But Stella covers her burning face with her hands. "I will go into a
convent," she says; "there at least I shall be able to conduct myself
properly."
Meanwhile, Rohritz and the captain roll on towards the station. They
are both silent.
"He is desperately in love with her," thinks the captain. "Is he really
too poor to marry, I wonder?"
Yes, it is true Rohritz is desperately in love with her; she hovers
before his eyes in all her loveliness like a vision. He would fain
stretch out his arms to her, but he is perpetually tormented by the
persistent question, "Whom does she resemble?" Suddenly he knows. The
knowledge almost paralyzes him!
Beside the pure, fresh vision of Stella he sees leaning over a
black-haired, vagabond-looking man at the roulette-table at Baden-Baden
the hectic ruin of a woman who has been magnificently beautiful, a
woman with painted cheeks and with deep lines about her eyes and
mouth,--otherwise the very image of Stella.
Twelve years since he had seen her thus, and upon asking who she was
had been told that she was the mistress of the Spanish violinist
Correze, and that she was little by little sacrificing her entire
fortune to gratify the artist's love of gaming. His informant added
that she was a woman of birth and position, and that she had left her
husband and child in obedience to the promptings of passion. He did not
know her husband's name: she called herself then Madame Correze.
Why do all Stasy's malicious remarks about Stella's unpleasant
connections, and about the Meineck temperament, crowd into his mind?
There is no denying that Stella is lacking in a certain kind of
reserve.
While he is waiting with the captain beneath the vine-wreathed shed of
the station for the train which has just been signalled, these hateful
thoughts refuse to be banished. He suddenly asks his friend, who stands
smoking; in silence beside him,--
"What is the story about your sister's sister-in-law to which Fraeulein
von Gurlichingen so often alludes? Was she the same Eugenie Meineck to
whom you were once devoted?"
"Yes," the captain makes reply, half closing his eyes, "and she was a
charming, enchanting creature; Stella reminds me of her. No one has a
good word for her now, but there was a time when it was impossible to
pet and praise her enough."
"What became of her?"
"She fell into bad--or rather into incapable--hands. She married an
elderly man who did not know how to manage her. Good heavens! the best
horse stumbles under a bad rider, and----"
"Well, and----?"
"She had not been married long when she ran off with a Spanish
musician, a coarse fellow, who beat her, and ran through her property.
He was quite famous. His name was--was----" The captain snaps his
fingers impatiently.
"Correze?" Rohritz interposes.
"Yes, that is it,--Correze!"
At this moment the train arrives.
"All kind messages to the ladies at Erlach Court, and many thanks for
your hospitality, Jack!" Rohritz says, jumping into the coupe.
"I hope we shall see you soon again, old fellow; but--hm!--have you no
message for my foolish little Stella?" asks the captain.
"I hope with all my heart that she may soon fall into good hands!"
Rohritz says, with emphasis, in a hard vibrant voice.
And the train whizzes away.
"The deuce!" thinks the captain; "there's but a slim chance for the
poor girl. Good heavens! if I loved Stella and my circumstances did not
allow of my marrying, I'd take up some profession. But Rohritz is too
fine a gentleman for that."
Meanwhile, Rohritz leans back discontentedly in the corner of an empty
coupe.
"A charming, bewitching creature,--Stella resembles her," he murmurs to
himself. "She married an elderly man from pique, and so on." He lights
a cigar and puffs forth thick clouds of smoke. "She might not have
married me from pique, but from loneliness, from gratitude for a little
sympathy. And if Zino had come across her later on---- I was on the
point of losing my head. Thank God it is over!"
He sat still for a while, his head propped upon his hand, and then
found that his cigar had gone out. With an impatient gesture he tossed
it out of the window.
"I could not have believed I should have had such an attack at my
years," he muttered. He set his teeth, and his face took on a resolute
expression. "It must he," he said to himself.
Outside the wind sighed among the trees and in the tall meadow-grass.
It sounded to him like the sobbing of his rejected happiness.